


Bad Decisions | Good Intentions

by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Blushing Derek, Derek Wears Glasses, Established Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Misunderstandings, sunshine punk scott mccall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/werewolvesandarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn’t think about Scott for his entire shift. No, he spends about a third of the time worrying about the paper assigned in his American History class (on the very first day) worth 50% of his grade, another third thinking about Scott, and the remaining third thinking about his new roommate. He knows he can’t blame Boyd for wanting to move in with his girlfriend, but it had left Derek struggling to find someone to rent the other bedroom in his apartment with only a month until classes. He’d been forced to put an ad on Craig’s List when no responses came through the university’s student services, and after many unsavory encounters, he’d ended up with Stiles Stilinski.<br/>Stiles is… infuriating. He doesn’t shut up and he yells really loudly when he plays video games and worst of all he’s terribly good looking. Derek hadn’t noticed it at first, honestly. He’d been more taken by the #TeamIronMan t-shirt and the quick sense of humor in their initial interview. Stiles had been the most normal of all the people who’d responded to his ad, and the fact that he didn’t immediately try to proposition Derek earned him a few extra points.<br/>Oh how things have changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Decisions | Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Zara](http://kingmccalled.tumblr.com) for the Teen Wolf Secret Valentine Exchange. Also posted on [tumblr](http://twsecretproject.tumblr.com/post/139305664399/bad-decisions-good-intentions).

The bell over the door jingles, and Derek jerks his head up, internally scolding himself for letting his hopes rise so quickly. But there’s no use, because the hope bursts into happiness at the sight of the person walking up to the counter. Derek knows he’s blushing and he tries to force it back with a scowl, which he’s sure it just makes him look ridiculous. But whatever.

“Hey Derek,” Scott (Medium iced vanilla chai with skim milk) leans against the counter, smiling that adorably lopsided smile of his.

“Your regular?” Derek asks, already reaching for the cup. Scott nods, eyes crinkling as he grins even wider.

“And uh, medium iced hazelnut coffee, black, two sugars.”

Derek nods, grabbing another cup and scribbling the order on it. He’s trying so hard to ignore the fact that this coffee could be for Scott’s boyfriend or girlfriend or really _anyone_ who’s not Derek. It could be for like his mom or something too, but this is a college town and he finds the former options much more likely. Plus, Scott is like sunshine personified. He’s nice and smart and kind, and he remembered Derek’s name after one day. Not to mention he’s hot like burning, with the tattoos wrapped around his arms and that dark hair, shaved short on the sides with deep red streaks running through the top. He has to have people lining up around the block that are trying to date him, people who aren’t afraid to talk to him and aren’t emotionally constipated. There’s probably smarter people too, nicer people, softer people, people who don’t hide behind a counter and espresso machine.

Derek slides the drinks to Scott, absolutely not shivering when their fingers brush. “That’ll be five fifty,” he mumbles, ducking his head in hopes of hiding the flush rising on his cheeks. He’s so _gone_ but he barely knows the guy. Scott smiles and hands him a credit card, but shoves a couple bills into Derek’s moderately filled tip jar. He winks when Derek hands him back his card, slipping it into his pocket and gathering up the drinks.

“Have a good day Der!” He calls over his shoulder, disappearing out the door. Derek watches him go until he can’t see him anymore.

Derek doesn’t think about Scott for his _entire_ shift. No, he spends about a third of the time worrying about the paper assigned in his American History class (on the very first day) worth 50% of his grade, another third thinking about Scott, and the remaining third thinking about his new roommate. He knows he can’t blame Boyd for wanting to move in with his girlfriend, but it had left Derek struggling to find someone to rent the other bedroom in his apartment with only a month until classes. He’d been forced to put an ad on Craig’s List when no responses came through the university’s student services, and after many unsavory encounters, he’d ended up with Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles is… infuriating. He doesn’t shut up and he yells really loudly when he plays video games and worst of all he’s terribly good looking. Derek hadn’t noticed it at first, honestly. He’d been more taken by the #TeamIronMan t-shirt and the quick sense of humor in their initial interview. Stiles had been the most _normal_ of all the people who’d responded to his ad, and the fact that he didn’t immediately try to proposition Derek earned him a few extra points.

Oh how things have changed.

Derek hates the way his t-shirts ride up when he stretches, hates how cute he looks in the morning, all sleepy and grumpy. He hates the breadth of Stiles’ shoulders and the length of his legs and the perfect pink bow to his lips. And he especially hates that Stiles seems to have no interest in him.

At first, he thought Stiles wasn’t into guys. But then his ‘boyfriend’ kept coming up in conversations, and Derek knew it had to be him. And sure, he knows he’s not everybody’s type, but he tends to get attention, even with his glasses and a scowl on his face. Usually it’s unwanted, but he finds himself just _waiting_ for some kind of come on from Stiles. Sometimes Stiles will just look at him funny, head tilted, eyes narrowed and focused, and he thinks _maybe_ , but then the boyfriend comes up, and Derek’s hopes are dashed.

It’s just frustrating, because he doesn’t necessarily _like_ Stiles. Or he _does_ , but they tend to bicker more than anything else, over everything from the dishes to the presidential candidates to DC versus Marvel. The problem is that Derek’s never _liked_ arguing with someone as much as he likes arguing with Stiles. It’s not mean spirited, it’s almost fun, getting him revved up to the point where he wants to push him against the nearest wall and shut that obnoxious mouth up.

When he gets home from work, Stiles has commandeered the kitchen, the sink overflowing with dirty dishes and pots bubbling on the stove.

“My guy’s coming over for din-din,” Stiles says to Derek’s raised eyebrows, a small, unfamiliar smile pulling at his lips. Derek feels his heart drop. He’d been looking forward to hanging out with Stiles a bit. Usually on Thursdays they’d find something obscure on Netflix and watch it together, battling to see who could come up with the best sarcastic commentary. But now he was going to have to make himself scarce.

Great.

He nods and heads to his bedroom, shoving the books he’d need to work on some homework into his bag. He knows he needs to calm down, knows his disappointment is showing, but he just needs a minute to reign it in. Of course, he could just tell Stiles that if he wanted him out of the apartment it was only common decency to give him more than a half hours’ notice, but as much as Derek gives off the tough guy vibes, he tends to avoid confrontation. Staying in his bedroom is also an option, but Stiles’ room is right next to his, and the walls are _thin_. The last thing he needs is to be forced to listen to Stiles and his boyfriend doing… stuff. There’s a large possibility that he’d end up with an awkward boner and come in his underwear. The thought alone has his cheeks heating and he scowls, shoving his laptop into his bag with a little more force than necessary. He needs to leave, now, before the boyfriend gets here and things get even more awkward.

Shoving his glasses on (mostly so he doesn’t forget them, he really only needs them for reading), he slings his backpack over one shoulder and stalks towards the door. He manages to make it halfway through the kitchen before Stiles is stopping him, long fingers wrapping around his arm.

“Dude, where are you going?”

Derek falters, because he was kind of figuring Stiles would be happy to see him go and just, like, let him leave.

“The library,” he mumbles, staring determinedly at the floor.

“I thought you said last night you didn’t have anything due until next week?” Derek jerks his head up, surprised that Stiles actually remembered their sleepy conversation from last night. Stiles is looking at him with what might be _concern_ , his brow furrowed slightly and his nose scrunching in the most adorable way.

“Well yeah but-”

“I was planning on you being here bro, Scott wants to meet you.”

Derek’s heart stops. He’s not sure _what_ he should be focusing on, the fact that Stiles _wants_ him here or the possibility that _his_ vanilla chai Scott could be Stiles’ Scott. And he can’t leave now, not with Stiles asking him to stay and this perverse need to _know_ if his Scott really isn’t _his_ Scott at all.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing hard when Stiles releases his arm. Stiles grins at him, a bright happy thing that lights up his entire face and sends warmth shooting down Derek’s spine.

He’s so, so fucked.

There isn’t even time to consider hiding in his room again when someone knocks on their door, and Stiles runs to answer it. Fascinated, Derek watches as he throws it open and basically jumps the guy standing on the other side, and all too familiar shock of dark, red streaked hair all that can be seen around Stiles’ flailing limbs. Derek doesn’t stop watching, not when they start to kiss like they’re dying, not when Scott notices him standing there and smiles at him. Per usual, Derek just stands there, frozen, even when Scott bounds around Stiles and wraps _him_ in a very enthusiastic hug.

“I knew it!” He crows, arms still wrapped tight around Derek’s middle. Derek resolutely does _not_ smell him, no matter how much he wants to tuck his face into the side of Scott’s neck. Instead he awkwardly pats at his back, trying not to make eye contact with a smirking Stiles. God. This is both the worst and best thing that’s happened to him. Ever. “I thought that Stiles’ hot roommate sounded just like my favorite barista.”

“Scott!” Stiles hisses, a delicate flush rising across the tops of his cheeks. Derek’s immediate thought is that he wants to taste it, wants to feel the blood rushing beneath his tongue, which only makes his own cheeks flame. Great. Scott just laughs and releases Derek, casually pushing a hand through his hair as he makes his way into the kitchen. Derek’s mouth goes dry at the flex of his bicep, straining against the sleeve of his black t-shirt. He realizes too late that Stiles is staring at him, a lopsided smirk on his face but his eyes calculating.

He should have gone to the library.

(In the back of his head, Drake sings _bad decisions, good intentions_ and Derek hates himself just a little bit more).

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Scott practically sings, lifting the cover off of a pan and dipping his finger inside. It comes out covered in what Derek guesses is alfredo sauce, but then Scott licks it off and Derek can’t help but think it looks a bit like something else. It only gets worse when Scott makes eye contact with him, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks on his finger. Derek _really_ didn’t sign up for this.

“You know,” he mumbles, shifting his backpack higher on his shoulder. “I really should probably go to the libr-” He’s not sure if it’s the disappointed curve to Scott’s mouth or the fierce glare Stiles shoots his way, but Derek snaps his mouth shut so fast his teeth clack together (though his sister would probably say it wouldn’t take much with those big old bunny teeth of his). “Or I’ll just put my stuff back in my room…” Scott’s radiant smile returns, and he knows he said the right thing. Or at least, the thing that makes Scott happy. Which seems to make Stiles happy. Whether or not it will make himself happy is kind of up in the air.

Ducking back into his room, he collapses face first onto his bed. The pillow is cool beneath his cheek and still smells faintly of his mom’s laundry detergent, and really, he would be happy just hiding in here the entire night. Stiles, however, seems to sense his indecision, and no sooner has he closed his eyes his bedroom door is flying back open.

“Don’t even think about hiding in here,” Stiles admonishes, punctuating his demand with a pinch to Derek’s ass.

“What the hell man?” Derek growls, though it probably comes out more like a whine. He doesn’t care. At this point all dignity is lost.

“I’m serious Hale, get your ass back out in that kitchen. Scott will be sad if you don’t.”

Derek twists around in time to catch the end of Stiles’ smirk, not missing the bitter edge to his words. He can’t exactly _blame_ Stiles, it’s not like any normal person would be okay with their boyfriend referring to another guy as hot, or with said other guy having a quite obvious crush on their boyfriend. Though Scott had referred to him as ‘Stiles’ hot neighbor”, which would mean that’s how Stiles referred to him… right?

Wrong.

There’s no way Stiles thinks he’s hot. Stiles can barely even tolerate him on an average day. He’s always grumbling about how he ‘ _can’t deal_ ’ with Derek and leaving the room. It’s… hurtful, but Derek had been soothing his pain with Scott’s smiling face every morning. But now that’s only going to hurt too.

With a sigh he pushes himself to his feet, depositing his glasses back on his desk and running his hands through his hair. His fingers itch to curl around his phone, anxious to text someone, _anyone_ for help. He pulls it out and settles on Erica, Boyd’s girlfriend. He’s not really sure _how_ he became friends with Erica, but he’s 98% sure that she tricked him into it. Regardless, she’s the only person he knows that _might_ actually give him good advice. Of course, she’s just as likely to tell him to man up, but he’s taking his chances.

**TO ERICA: I need help.**

**TO ERICA: Scott from the coffee shop is dating my roommate**

**TO ERICA: and they’re making me eat dinner with them**

Shoving his phone back in his pocket he shuffles back out into the kitchen, stopping short at the end of the hall. Scott has Stiles caged in against the counter, whispering quietly into his ear as Stiles’ body arches against his. Derek can’t look away, mesmerized by Stiles’ long pale fingers pushing up the back of Scott’s t-shirt, contrasting beautifully against the deep tan of Scott’s skin. He feels dazed, tongue dragging across the front of his teeth as his jeans start to get uncomfortably tight. Swallowing hard, he forces himself to blink, flushing yet again when he realizes that Scott’s staring at him, eyes so dark they almost look black. Derek feels hot all over, like Scott’s gaze is melting him from the inside out, reducing him into a puddle of slightly guilty lava. His phone beeps in his pocket and he scrambles for it, relieved at the distraction.

“How long was he standing there?” He hears Stiles whisper, but he ignores it in favor of glaring at his phone.

**FROM ERICA: i guess mccall and stilinski finally got their acts together**

**FROM ERICA: just try not to be painfully awkward**

**FROM ERICA: nvm. you can’t help it. ;p**

**TO ERICA: you know scott and stiles?**

**TO ERICA: why am i just finding this out**

Derek sinks into a chair at the kitchen table with a groan, his head hitting the table with a loud thud. He cannot believe his life right now. He can’t even believe that Erica knows _both_ the guys he has a crush on and never bothered to mention it to him! Not that he explicitly said he had crushes on them or anything. In fact, there’s a distinct possibility that he’s only ever really complained about them, so maybe he can’t blame Erica. He’s still going to anyways.

**FROM ERICA: i went to highschool with them**

**FROM ERICA: and scott dated kira for a while**

**FROM ERICA: just try not to be a dick**

Derek scowls and puts his phone on silent, tempted to throw it at the back of the couch or something. Erica is being extremely unhelpful, and he has exactly zero idea what she’s even talking about.

“So…” He starts, the silence in the kitchen suddenly oppressive. “You guys know Erica?” He looks up in time to catch Stiles’ eyes going wide with what might be fear, his posture stiffening.

“Why? What did she say to you?” Stiles snaps, hands balling into fists. Scott runs a hand down his back, soothing him, and jealously zings through Derek’s heart.

“She just told me not to be a dick,” Derek shrugs. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, and all of this is kind of weird, and I feel like I shouldn’t be here… on you guys’ date night.” The only sound is the bubbling of sauce in one of the pans on the stove. Derek still feels too hot, his skin stretched too tight, but he tries to hide it my scratching at the back of his neck in the most nonchalant way he can muster. He’s sure he fails terribly, but Scott and Stiles are both staring at him with wide eyes.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk,” Scott whispers, lips lifting into a crooked smile. At that Stiles scoffs, turning his attention back to the mess on the stove.

“Ask him to do the dishes, he won’t shut up about it for a week.” Stiles shoots a smirk at Derek over his shoulder like it’s some kind of inside joke, but to Derek it suddenly feels like too much. It feels like Stiles is implying some sort of domesticity between them, like they have this _relationship_ , like maybe he’s trying to make Scott jealous. And while Derek wants attention for Stiles _and_ attention from Scott, he definitely doesn’t want to get in the middle of what they have.

“Yeah?” He looks up to find Scott sliding into the chair across from him, eyes soft and fond. He’s looking at Derek like he wants to memorize him, wants to etch everything he does into stone. As much as it makes warmth curl around Derek’s chest, it’s also slightly unnerving.

“Maybe I should-”

Scott holds up a hand to stop him, still smiling.

“Dude, stop trying to leave.” He drops his hand, reaching for Derek’s across the table. Derek lets him curl his fingers around Derek’s own, holding his breath as Scott’s thumb skims across his knuckles. “I’m going to tell you something okay? And I’d like if you’d just listen.”

“And try not to be a dick,” Stiles chimes in from the kitchen, the crack in his voice betraying the nervousness he’s hiding behind a smirk. Derek glares at him but returns his attention to Scott when he starts to speak.

“I uh, I have this really big crush at the guy who works at my favorite coffee shop. He makes my chai just right and his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed and he actually looks like he walked out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. And I’d talk about him all the time-”

“All the fucking time-”

“-to Stiles, because like, we want to be honest with each other and shit. But I was too shy to make a move on coffee shop guy, because I didn’t know if he was even into guys or not-”

“Everyone is into guys when it comes to you Scott-”

“-and I didn’t want to scare him off. So I was happy just getting to see his pretty face every morning. But then Stiles moved in with this guy, and weirdly enough, this guy had the same name as my coffee shop guy, but at first I thought it was a coincidence. And in the beginning, when Stiles was just bitching all the time-”

“Hey!”

“Which is how you know he really likes you, I thought there was no way they were the same guy. But then… Stiles started complaining about these beautiful eyes that weren’t even an actually color, and how he was having dreams about stubble burn on his thighs, and how he actually had to leave the room because he couldn’t stand looking at his roommate’s adorable little sleepy eyed half smile… and I just thought…” Scott trails off, smiling softly across the table at Derek. Derek, who is probably staring like an idiot. But he’s having trouble _processing_ okay? How can… what even are the odds of this happening? And what is Scott even trying to get at?

“Now would be a good time for you to say you like us too,” Stiles grouches, not looking at either of them as he stirs the pot of pasta with a bit more force than necessary.

“Okay…” Derek flicks his eyes between Scott and Stiles, taking in the rigid, tense lines of Stiles back and the open hopefulness in Scott’s eyes. “I uh… Yeah, same?” He’s cringing before he even gets the words out, can just imagine Scott and Stiles immediately losing any interest they had in him.

“ _Yeah same_?!” Stiles squawks, throwing his hands up in the air. “What does that even mean Hale! You can’t just-”

Derek doesn’t hear the rest of it, too distracted by Scott leaning across the table, hands gentle as they cup his cheeks, calloused fingers rasping against his stubble.

“I’m going to kiss you know,” Scott says quietly, smiling slightly when Derek nods. And then they’re kissing, just a soft press of lips. Scott laughs quietly and kisses him again, this time with intention, his tongue hot as it traces the curve of Derek’s lip. He moans without thinking, parting his lips and letting Scott in. Scott kisses like lava, slow and hot, melting everything in his path. Derek’s consumed by him, fisting a hand in his shirt and leaning awkwardly across the kitchen table, the edge jutting uncomfortably into his stomach.

“Wow,” Stiles says, closer than Derek expects him to be. “That’s even hotter than I imagined.”

Scott grins against Derek’s mouth a pulls back, flopping into his chair with kiss-swollen lips and a dazed look on his face. Derek knows the feeling, lifting his fingers to his own lips, trying to see if this is actually happening. “Of for fuck’s sake.” Stiles actually groans, stepping forward and pushing Derek back in his chair with a firm hand on his chest. “You are such a fucking menace Derek Hale.” Derek blinks at him, preparing to deny that _rude_ accusation, but then Stiles is straddling him, long fingers slipping up into his hair, tugging just enough to make Derek sigh.

He knows Stiles has to be able to feel how hard he is, but Derek can’t quite bring himself to care, not when Stiles is smirking at him like he wants to _ruin_ him. If Scott’s like lava then Stiles kisses like fire, flames licking and dancing, never staying in the same place for too long. His lips are everywhere at once, sucking kissing into the underside of Derek’s jaw, teeth nipping at his ears. He’s hard to follow, so Derek just hangs on for dear life, sliding his hands beneath Stiles’ shirts, mapping the bumps of his spine and the dip at the small of his back. Stiles swears against his skin, finally lifting his head enough to _really_ kiss Derek, biting and licking as his hips rock down against Derek’s.

“Um…”

Stiles freezes at the sound of Scott’s voice, his tongue still very much in Derek’s mouth.

“I think something’s burning…”

“Fuck!” Stiles scrambles off Derek’s lap, adjusting himself with one hand as he half trips across the kitchen. Derek tries to blink himself back to reality, realizing slowly that it’s not his mind that has gone into a haze, but there’s actually smoke starting to fill the kitchen.

“This happens all the time,” Scott reassures him, as if he can see the panic starting to build in Derek’s chest. “I ordered pizza while you guys were mackin’.”

Derek just nods. He’s completely lost, but then again, he kind of doesn’t mind it.

[They eat pizza sprawled across each other on the couch, arguing about whether or not Han shot first. Scott hasn’t even _seen_ the movies, but seems to be contributing to the argument just to make Stiles mad. Arguing turns to kissing, which turns to frantic undressing, which turns to Derek coming untouched with Scott’s tongue in his ass and Stiles panting against his neck.

Needless to say, Derek’s glad he didn’t go to the library.]


End file.
